


bury me at make-out creek

by Metamorphine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, MOMA date or bust I guess, no one actually gets kissed and even I'm disappointed, too many metaphors in too little words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-18 17:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21530335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metamorphine/pseuds/Metamorphine
Summary: "There was something to be said about visiting an art museum just to spend the hour gazing adoringly at how the mid-morning light softened the jaw of his date into romantic brushstrokes"--An emotional crisis in less than 300 words, set to the tune of bubble-pop songs and martyred saints
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Kudos: 7





	bury me at make-out creek

**Author's Note:**

> Named for Mitski, but 100% inspired by the song "Bad Ideas" by Tessa Violet

There was something to be said about visiting an art museum just to spend the hour gazing adoringly at how the mid-morning light softened the jaw of his date into romantic brushstrokes, but those were words Keith would rather choke on than acknowledge right then. There was also something to be said about Shiro in this setting bringing back uncomfortable reminders of a pre-teen fascination with the martyrdom of Saint Sebastian, but that was also something that deserves to be slowly asphyxiated with stones and boards. All in all, this was a horrible idea and the other man had no right to be softly appreciating a Monet with eyes set in chiseled bones and lips just on the verge of saying something profound that made Keith want to kiss them standing up, room left for an entire triptych of Jesus and his apostles, with this room as an audience but not for an audience. Shiro made him want to be buried in freshly washed pillows that smelled of lavender and linen instead of grave-dirt six feet under, shoveling earthworms down his throat to make the process go faster. The thought had him turning away to smother the pounding of his heart as it tried to beat its way free of the realization that simple intimacy scared him more than his adolescent quest for self-immolation. All the accusations nagging in the atmosphere of his mind couldn’t come close to the quiet knowing in his chest that he could never escape being in love.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @messyghostie everywhere that counts


End file.
